


Many Happy Returns

by MiladyPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mystrade if you squiny hard enough, No Mary Morstan, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Feels, greg KNOWS, reunion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyPheonix/pseuds/MiladyPheonix
Summary: AU of the reunion where John watches the video as a way to stay connected to Sherlock. Inspired by the season filler Many Happy Returns.





	Many Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea on the bus home, No Mary because I just don’t feel like it. Greg Knows.

**Three Months After Drop Off.**

It had become a habit of John’s on Danger Nights, he will pour himself one drink and pop the CD in the player. Just one drink and just one chat with his dead best friend.   


**Three Months Before Serbia.**   


It had become a habit of John’s since Gregory had dropped off the box. Mycroft had warned against it but Gregory's compassionate nature had proven correct, that the potential for damage was far out-weighed by the damage of leaving John with nothing at all until Sherlock got home.  


**Three Days Before Reunion.**   


It had become a habit of John's to limit himself to a single drink and talk to his recorded self. Mycroft and Lestrade had dropped off the box but he’d only just been told of John’s habit. He broke a bit inside thinking of his staunch friend needing the solace of alcohol and his recorded image in his absence. His brother's pointless doctors needed to hurry! He had a doctor always and Sherlock was needed at home.   


**Zero Days Before Reunion.**   


This was not John’s habit, his fifth drink and third repeat of the disk. He’d started shouting at the screen and he knew it was only because of the curly dark-haired teen who had overdosed in the clinic that afternoon before dying under John’s focused but frantic care…  


“I’ll be with you again very soon" and that bloody smile and that fucking wink! John knocked back drink number six, or was it seven, who cared. “Not if I see you first" He growled before he lurched off the couch to the kitchen and was pouring again “John" The bottle hit the table and rolled before he caught it, capped it, and headed into the lounge with his eyes stubbornly fixed on the old carpet. “John”  


“No” He sounded strangled, even to his own ears, but maybe he was overdue a good hallucination and maybe he'd break his fist on the door punching through his imaginary best friend. He shot to his feet to meet his insanity and stumbled. It was Sherlock, but never a Sherlock he had ever seen. A tailored suit could not hide the emaciated frame that stood in the doorway, an obviously fresh haircut (little hairs in his collar and on the edge of his sleeves) must have sheared away unkempt curls and those eyes. John’s world slid sideways at those eyes and then his own vision went black.   


John had stood to face him but then seemed to loose his footing a bit. Sherlock leapt forward as John fainted dead away, he was clearly intoxicated and must have assumed Sherlock would be a hallucination and in the glowing health he had had in the recording. His damaged ribs wouldn’t allow him to lift John but he could slow his fall and settle on the floor beside him. “John” It seemed to be the only word he had any more, hopefully it would be enough.   


Mycroft sighed as Gregory stood in his office, they knew Sherlock was going back to John today and were gathered for any fallout. John’s gun sat on the desk between them as Gregory had taken it shortly after the funeral at Mycroft’s insistence. Mycroft would not loose John Watson over misplaced faith and pointless optimism because if he lost John Watson he would never really get Sherlock Holmes back, not really, and that was just unacceptable.   


His name in a baritone rumble pulled him into wakefulness and towards sobriety. He looked at this new Sherlock and his mind spun. “You can’t be Sherlock. Sherlock's tailor is an obsessive Italian man more in love with him than I am! That’s Mycroft’s tailor, he’s more forgiving. That’s probably Mycroft’s barber too, always closer on the right as he can’t see what he’s doing on the left and” John let out a relieved sigh. “You smell wrong, Sherlock always smelled like fifty pound after shave, and London, and Bart's morgue…” John trailed off as he remembered Sherlock in St Bart's mortuary. “Sherlock looked better on the slab than you do. Get Out"   


Sherlock lit up at the accuracy of John’s deductions and followed his rapidly retreating figure into the upstairs bedroom. John was ransacking his own room, strategically mauling shelves and drawers like a desperate panther. “Fantastic, Amazing" Sherlock crowed at John’s brilliance and waited as his words settled in that wonderful mind. John was staring at him like a man looking at the end of his world. “Mycroft has it, your gun, he made Lestrade take it after the funeral and Bobby, well Roberto probably is in love with me but only because I refuse to go anywhere else. He’s seventy six John so I wouldn’t worry about him. I love you too.” Sherlock carefully approached the statue of his John and pulled him against his chest.   


Warmth with a slightly too spicy scent flooded John’s stalled mind and Sherlock loved him. John realised he'd said it first but Sherlock loved him too. His fingers locked into the back of Sherlock’s jacket and a _thumpthump thumpthump_ beat in his ear, _thumpthump thump thump_ , slowed as his Sherlock calmed. His Sherlock… John sobbed into a cotton shirt that some part of his brain noted wasn’t Sherlock’s usual silk blend. One more miracle held him close and was sobbing too as they had made it to John’s carefully made bed where razor hospital corners popped under their weight.   


Weight crushed the two men locked into a Gordian knot on the bed, weight pressed tears from their eyes and gasps forced air back into their lungs. “I love you" “I love you" They spoke together and for a while laughter rang out from tear stained faces before they slowly wound down, shifting against one another as neither seemed willing to relinquish their hold while they settled onto the pillows.   


Sherlock inhaled deeply because the pillows smelled like John, John himself smelled like mediocre whiskey and perspiration at the moment but his pillows smelled like the sleepy John who trudged to the shower or else swiped Sherlock’s neglected morning tea, Sherlock had stopped taking sugar in his tea when he realised John would steal it if he deemed it neglected enough. Sherlock worked his way slowly under John’s wrinkled jumper and found sticky skin, at his touch John returned the gesture but froze as his happily questing fingers found stitches and hemotoma in their trail.   


“Sherlock?” There was a query in the name but no answer was forthcoming. “Right” John began to sit up and long hands clung to him, urging him back to the bed “I’m not leaving you" He smoothed damp hair off Sherlock’s paled face. “I just want to have a look, check their work, then we're going to sleep. I’ll be properly pissed off at you tomorrow” John hoped his smile would help level out the way, if Sherlock’s evident trepidation was anything to go on, the way was gonna be very rocky.  


Sherlock stood and slowly stripped to the waist, at least the painkillers were holding up. He fired off a text to Mycroft assuring him that he and John would be fine and that Sherlock’s own physician was going to check his injuries. John was a statue again but Sherlock knew what the damage looked like as he'd already been cleaned, patched, weighed, tested, and jabbed for two days before he was released. “John” he said quietly and it was enough because John revived and guided him into his belly on the bed. “Looks pretty good" John announced after a fair bit of prodding at him, “Your brother has good people, did they?” “All tests cleared and I’ve got low dose codeine in my coat, you’ll be in charge of that of course" Sherlock rolled over carefully and reached for John, more than ready to finally sleep now that he had him back.   


John raised one finger just needing a minute, he used the time collecting pyjama bottoms and teeshirts for them both to compose himself. Sherlock was a mess and would take months to heal physically let alone the psychological impact of what had happened. For now though they would sleep and just rest with each other because they had time now didn’t they. He turned smiling to the man in his bed, now in his pants waiting for John’s delivery of warm clothing, more bruises showed on his legs but no more need be said.   


They dressed quickly and settled nuzzling into bed; the reasons, the causes, the details, the fights, the making up, the cases, it could all wait because right now they slept peacefully and rested for tomorrow.  


The next day dawn crisp and clear so John rolled out of bed grateful he had the weekend to recover from the drinking and put his mind back together after that crazy dream. He was half way to the door when he realised there was clothing wrapped around his ankle, a rather fancy but slightly blood stained shirt was following him out the room. Sherlock! The previous night drove John downstairs to the aroma of eggs, bacon, and hot toast that surrounded Sherlock!   


**Three Days After Reunion.**   


“Jaaawn” bellowed from the downstairs bedroom, they’d move there after the first night as it was bigger and just more convenient. John had thus far yelled, sworn, cried, and flung himself out of the flat to march around the park in a fury. He’d phoned Mycroft as well as Greg to yell, swear, and try desperately not to cry at them both; then also soothed Sherlock after nightmares, petted him, treated his injures, cuddled, napped with and kissed him. He’d kissed and kissed and kissed Sherlock like it was oxygen he’d long been denied. “Jaaaaaawn"  


Sherlock called again because John had insisted he rest but was not staying with him! They’d sorted things out for the most part and he was enjoying actual physical affection… well he would be if the source of his supply would return. The smell of more food preceded a mildly harassed looking John; food was always boring but he knew John was preparing their meals personally having loudly rejected Mycroft’s offer of a meal delivery service, the grocery delivery he had accepted, also food meant more medication and he was starting to ache.   


“Lunch for my Honeybee!” John exclaimed, the pet names had started shortly after the kissing but honeybee had been approved as they were diligent, intelligent, and devoted to their hive. Also as John pointed out, they stung like blazes if they needed to. Lunch was leftover coq au vin from the night before with fresh bread and honey for after. Sherlock had been delighted when John showed his cooking skills and was putting on slow but steady weight.   


**Three Month After Reunion.**  


“Sherlock, where are you going" Greg called after snapping coat tails, John had simply taken off if anything faster than Sherlock and Greg swore those two had been telepathically linked since their reunion. They were clearly sleeping together but no one had said anything as most of NSY had witnessed what loosing Sherlock did to John Watson at some point and they all knew what the duo could accomplish together.   


He sent two uniforms after them and finished sorting out his crime scene. They had only recently some back to the work with Mycroft returning John gun in person so that Greg could claim to know nothing about it officially but he was not all surprised when one of the uniforms radioed in, her voice incredulous but delighted “They got him! I mean we've got him sir, heading back to you" Greg rolled his eyes and found space in the squad car for their suspect. He was still shifting evidence when his people returned, the guy had a solid hand on their suspect who didn’t even struggle, clearly Sherlock was back on form and no sign on bruises must mean John was happy with the situation too. “They scarpered” was the uniform’s only comment as he levered the suspect into a cleared seat in the vehicle. “Said they’d do the paper work tomorrow” She finished for him handing Greg an evidence bag clearly from Sherlock though the label carried John’s physician's scrawl it was illegible but Sherlock would no doubt explain in exhaustive detail the next day.   


**Three Month Before The Wedding.**   


John picks up a classic white gold ring with a simple interior inscription “You Could".  



End file.
